A REFLECTION
BY DANIEL W. DRAKE ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
Ireflexively ducked as Hawkeye whooshed close by my head on his way to a landing in the nearby tree. When he had settled down, after a couple of flaps, he glared at me for a while as I recovered my composure from the near miss.

"That was a little close for comfort," I finally said.

He continued to stare me down.

Finally, he said, "Good morning."

"That's it?" I asked. "Just good morning? After you came so close to putting a permanent crease in my scalp?"

"Oh, relax," my friend replied. "It was just a little target practice. I was pretty accurate, don't you think?"

"Too accurate. Why me? Why today?"

"Well," the bird went on, "I thought you were looking kind of glum. I figured that if I made a run at you, it would take your mind off whatever is bothering you. I tell you, when I go after a rabbit, it works every time."

"Glum or not, you certainly got my attention. And actually, you are right. I am feeling a bit down."

"Why?" Hawkeye asked.

"To be honest, I was thinking about a friend who died this past week."

After a moment of silence, Hawkeye said, "Ouch. That's too bad." Then, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I can't say that he was a close friend. In fact, we didn't find out until a few days ago, actually the day he died, that he was even sick. But he was a good friend. One of those people you were really glad to know."

I went on. "He was a funny guy. In a way, he had the demeanor of a basset hound; sad-eyed and a bit droopy. But he was always right there, with a quick response and a wonderful wit. And he was very much on top of things. He knew what was what and who was who. And he had a great knack for getting to the heart of a matter. With him, you couldn't get away with anything. And, he was a great cook!"

"Hang on," said Hawkeye. "I didn't ask for a eulogy. They make me uncomfortable. Humans are the only ones who do that."

"Don't you feel sad when you lose a friend?" I asked.

"Hawks don't have any friends."

"Thanks," I replied.

"Moving on," I continued, "when someone you know quite well dies suddenly, as this fellow did, you aren't prepared. It doesn't make it any easier, really, if the person has been sick and you know what's coming, but, in those circumstances, you aren't dealing with the shock factor.

"In this case, you had no idea what was coming. He was sick, had undergone surgery and was ready to come home. Then, poof, he was gone."

Hawkeye took this all in. "This is totally outside my experience," he finally said. "I really don't know what to make of it. In my world, when you're gone, you're gone. No one mourns. No one cares. If you become sick, you get left alone. When you die there is no wailing, or pomp and ceremony.

"I really don't know what more to say to you. I would really rather talk about politics and government. And, I think that would make you happier."

"We will have plenty of time for that," I said.

"Did you know about the dolphins in Hither Creek a couple of weeks ago?" I continued. "It turned out one of them was sick and the second one stayed with the ill one until the end."

"I watched a lot of that," the hawk answered. "Again, that behavior is totally alien to me. Except when we are nesting, it is every hawk for himself. Sometimes, if you think of it, you check to be sure your other half is staying in the neighborhood, but that's about it."

"I suppose there are benefits to that approach," I said. "But people aren't made that way. The human psyche requires a 'good-bye', closure. The grieving process that follows someone's death is essential to recovery, to moving forward."

"And people are fascinated by the whole subject of death and dying. Did you know that obituaries are among the most popular articles in a newspaper's archives?"

"Look," Hawkeye grumped. "I came down here - even postponed my breakfast - to cheer you up and what do I get for it? A primer on obituaries. Obituaries are a dime a dozen, particularly at this time of year. Get a life! (Oops, a bad word, maybe?)"

"You know, Hawkeye," I said, "My friend was a fan of yours. He spoke of you several times, not always favorably, but he did respect you."

"Seriously?" The hawk look surprised. Almost beginning to sound sympathetic, he continued, "If you want to feel sad, I have no problem with that. If you want to grieve, so be it. If you want to deliver a eulogy, go ahead. He was your friend. Deal with his death as you must."

After another pause, "I am afraid I haven't been very helpful to you this time. I am going to get going now. See you soon." With that, Hawkeye was gone.

I stood there, trying to stay warm in the chill wind, thinking how Hawkeye had felt the same awkwardness we all feel in dealing with these sorts of circumstances.

Then my thoughts turned to my friend; how his wife and family were gathered around; how friends and even people not heard from in a while had joined with them, first in the joy of recovery and then in their sudden grief; and, especially, how a new grandson provides the catalyst for the family to move on.

At last, I remembered that this Sunday is Easter, which inspires Christians with the joy of resurrection and eternal life. If you had to go, Sam, what better

time than in the season of hope. I

The "Lighthouse Keeper" reflects the views of the author and does not represent the editorial position of The Nantucket Independent. Please send any ideas or comments to drake@nantucketindependent.com.